


Damn the Sandman

by Venus_Feels (eccentric_kittens)



Category: Heroes (TV)
Genre: Abuse, Character Death In Dream, Dream Sex, Dubious Consent, F/M, Hurt No Comfort, Hurt/Comfort, It's gonna get dark bois, M/M, Mohinder is adorable okay, Multi, Non-Consensual Touching, Polyamory, Psychological Torture, Sadism, Threats of Rape/Non-Con, Torture, Tortured Mohinder Suresh, Whump, mylar
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-04-20
Updated: 2019-05-18
Packaged: 2020-01-20 20:02:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 4
Words: 3,838
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18532153
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/eccentric_kittens/pseuds/Venus_Feels
Summary: Sylar gets a hold of the ability to enter dreams.Poor Mohinder :)[I know barely anyone is reading this, cause let's face it this fandom is pretty dead at this point, but it'll be updating every saturday]





	1. Chapter 1

Sylar was delighted when he first got the ability to enter and control dreams, which was shortlived as he ran through the possibilities and quickly realised it would be merely a recreational ability, with not many practical applications. Sitting in a cafe, stirring his latte with his mind, he felt brief disappointment at how limited the power was with this one. A banana-bright taxi flitted past his window. Mohinder immediately came to mind and Sylar stood, intention already solidified. Latte forgotten, he picked up his phone and dialled the number as he exited the cafe. 

 

“Hello, this is Mohinder Suresh.”

 

Sylar licked his lips, having to duck into the alley so he could speak freely. “It’s been a while, hasn’t it?”

 

He heard Mohinder’s heart rate and breathing pick up. 

 

“S - Sylar?”

 

“Don’t bother calling the cops. Just listen. Understand?” Sylar asked, smug at the power he knew he held.

 

Mohinder swallowed, loudly to Sylar’s  enhanced ears. “Yes.”

 

“I want to know where you are. Exactly where you are.”

 

“There’s no way I’m -”

 

“And if you don’t tell me, I’m going to murder everyone in a mile radius.”

 

Sylar grinned to himself, enjoying the little beats of terror in Mohinder’s heart. 

 

“Text it to me. And if there’s any tricks? Any police, anything off when I get there? It won’t just be you I visit. I’ll be paying Molly and your precious Matty a visit as well. Understand?”

 

“Y - yes - yes, don’t go anywhere near them,” Mohinder growled.

 

Not liking the threat in Mohinder’s voice, Sylar sighed. “Say the magic word. Say it, and I promise I won’t go near them.”

 

Mohinder barely hesitated, but Sylar caught it anyway; humiliation. His favourite. 

 

“Please.”

 

“Again.”

 

“...Please.”

 

“More.”

 

Sylar wet his lips again, finding them dry. He wasn’t sure why, but intimidating and playing with people like this got him off on a level far above sexual. Mohinder gave a noise of frustration that sent a ripple of that elevated feeling right down Sylar’s back. 

 

“Sylar, please, I’m begging you. Don’t hurt my family. Please, please, please -”

 

“Enough, Mohinder.” 

 

Sylar loved the way the desperation and anger rose with each plead. This would be fun. The moment of silence while he got a hold of himself clearly didn’t agree with Mohinder.

 

“So - so you’ll stay away from them? You promise?”

 

“I swear. So text me your address, make sure your perfect little family aren’t home, and I’ll drop by.”

 

Mohinder’s heart rate rose again, and Sylar used his telekinesis to crush a few trash cans and get some catharsis. 

 

“Why - why are you coming here? What do you want from me?”

 

Sylar decided to humour him. “I have a new ability. Wanted to test it out and I could think of no one better than my very own Doctor Suresh.”

 

Mohinder was quiet for a moment. “Molly needs me. Please don’t take me from her.”

 

“I’m not going to kill you. Technically speaking, I’m not even going to hurt you,” he laughed, enjoying the suspenseful teasing. 

 

He listened to Mohinder sigh, stressed, tapping the phone against his forehead. He had to wet his lips again. 

 

“Sending it now,” Mohinder muttered, tapping away. “Look, Sylar, whatever power fantasy you’re coming here to play out, I want you to understand that if anything happens to Molly or Matt, I swear -”

 

“You’ll what? Drug me? You’ve already tried, it didn’t exactly work did it?”

 

“I’ll call Peter.”

 

Sylar rolled his tongue, angry. “Don’t threaten me, Mohinder, it’s not going to end well for you. Or them. Thinking on it, maybe I’ll pay Peter a visit too. Make sure to credit you, after all you’re the one who gave me the idea.”

 

“No, Sylar, please, I - I’m so -”

 

He put the phone down, cutting him off. Enraged, he crushed everything in the alleyway. A cat screeched and ran past him. How dare Mohinder even mention Peter’s name, and to mention it as a threat, as if Peter could ever match up to his power? Maybe he really should pay Peter a visit. Mohinder first though. He’d already gotten riled up. He glanced down at the address, already typing his reply.

 

_ On my way ;) _


	2. Chapter 2

Mohinder paced, anxious, like a cat. He’d sent Molly and Matt on a ‘surprise’ weekend trip to the nearest Disneyland, saying that he wanted them to have a good time while he was a conference rather than being stuck at home. He’d locked all the doors and windows; force of habit. He knew it wouldn’t stop Sylar but it made him a little more comfortable anyway. 

 

He brewed tea. He wasn’t thirsty, and he doubted Sylar would want any, nor did he want to wait on him. But the sound of the kettle and the smell of chai was comforting. He found his hands shook too much to really hold a cup, so he left it on the saucer. It was the same set he’d had at his old place, missing the one Sylar dropped when he’d drugged him. He ran a hand through his hair. It wasn’t even late; just turned five. But it had been hours since Sylar called. Then again he could have been calling from anywhere, it could take him days to reach him. 

 

He wanted to eat, wanted to shower, wanted to work. All left him feeling a little too vulnerable. Most of all he wanted to sleep; the fear was exhausting and as he found himself sitting cross-legged in his bedroom behind a locked door, the urge to sleep was stronger than ever. He reasoned with himself that just as Sylar could arrive any moment, he also might arrive tomorrow, or the day after. The pillows called. He curled up, too cold to undress but too warm to get under the covers, telling himself he was just lying down for a moment.

 

Of course that quickly fell through, and his eyes snapped shut in seconds.

 

\---

 

Sylar made great effort to enter silently, sliding past Mohinder’s locks with ease. Even his bedroom door? Childish, Mohinder. He listened out; no one was home. Good, Mohinder. The Doctor in question was curled up, probably passed out from exhaustion. He knelt beside the bed, watching his prey sleep. He probed at his new power, finding it ready and willing to be channelled. Again he found himself thinking; this would be fun. 

 

\---

 

Mohinder’s eyes half-opened, a tired sigh already crawling up his throat. A hand had woken him up, trailing up his neck. He leaned into it, welcoming that warm, firm cup around his cheek and letting the sigh go. 

 

“Morning, sweetheart,” he murmured, turning to snuggle against Matt’s warm chest. “Can we sleep in? Please?”

 

“Sure thing, sweetheart.”

 

Mohinder froze, not quite having the courage to look up. That voice. It was all catching up to him. That voice. God, even the smell. He smelled like blood. That hand tipped his chin up, forcing him to look at him. Sylar.

 

He was grinning that awful, sickening grin. “What’s wrong, sweetheart? Don’t you wanna cuddle anymore?”

 

Mohinder struggled immediately, arms and legs flailing wildly, but Sylar pinned him telekinetically within seconds, still laid out beside him as if they really were just a couple in bed.

 

“Stop this, let me go,” Mohinder snapped, panting from his wasted efforts. 

 

Sylar shrugged. “But you were so sleepy and snuggly a moment ago, shnookums.”

 

“I didn’t know it was you, I thought it was - was -” he cut himself off, terrified of making Sylar go after Matt and Molly. 

 

“Oh I know. And here I thought the rumours were just that; rumours. I teased you before, but now it’s true isn’t it? You and Parkman. Shackin’ up. As it were. And with Molly, your prodigal daughter, right? What a beautiful little nuclear family.”

 

Mohinder stayed silently, furiously staring at his ceiling. 

 

“It’s a shame I promised not to hurt them. But I made no such promises about you,” Sylar added, before choking Mohinder with his mind.

 

Struggling, Mohinder’s punches got weaker and weaker. He fought to stay conscious, grabbing Sylar’s shirt collar. Sylar let himself be pulled in close, enjoying Mohinder’s expression as he squeezed the life from him. Right before he felt like would pass out altogether, Mohinder saw Sylar lean in ever closer, almost nose to nose.

 

"Wake up, sweetheart."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know this is a dying fandom lmao but leave a comment/kudos if it's any good <3


	3. Chapter 3

Mohinder woke with an quiet, but audibly terrified whimper. Lightning flashed outside of his window and startled him all over again. His room was empty; no Sylar. He wiped his face; sweat and tears. It had been a long time since he’d had such an intense and realistic dream. He took a deep breath and looked at his clock. 8.45. Maybe Sylar wasn’t coming today after all. His shirt was stuck to him; more sweat. That shower he’d wanted was looking even more appealing. He stood, unbuttoning his shirt as he started towards the door. If he’d been a little less groggy from the nap he might have noticed that the lock was undone. He crossed the living room to the bathroom trying to free himself from his clinging clothes. He reached out for the doorknob.

 

“This tea’s gone cold.”

 

He spun, immediately on his guard. Sylar was sprawled across his couch. His new couch in his new place with its new memories. The whole reason he’d even moved here was because they didn’t feel safe in their old place, where Sylar had already tortured Mohinder once. The couch where Matt had helped Molly with her homework. Where they’d had family movie nights. Where Matt kissed him so softly. So softly. He remembered the dream he’d just had and shuddered.

 

“Any particular reason you’re stripping when you knew I was on my way?” Sylar asked, and Mohinder thought he saw genuine curiosity there.

 

Mohinder clenched the shirt in his hands, feeling exposed. “I fell asleep. It’s late. I - I thought perhaps it would take you a day or two to get here from...wherever you’re terrorising these days.”

 

“Is that all I am to you? A Godzilla rampaging around?” Sylar asked, and Mohinder remembered just how insecure this man was. 

 

He sighed, balling up his shirt and throwing it aside. “Just do whatever you’re going to do to me and leave.”

 

Sylar shrugged. “Alright, alright. Come here.”

 

Mohinder was more than hesitant. “What are you going to do?”

 

“I just need to touch your hand,” Sylar said, in that slippery, polite tone he had. “Now come here.”

 

More than acutely aware of how naked he was from the waist up, Mohinder wanted to walk slowly. He knew that would feel even worse, watching Sylar watching him. So he took 4 or 5 long strides and stood directly in front of him, probably closer than he wanted to be in hindsight, but he was trying to be confident, and stumbling backwards in fear over the coffee table wouldn’t read as uber confident. 

 

Sylar leisurely sat up, taking advantage of Mohinder’s paralysis and sitting so Mohinder was standing between his legs. Aware of this, Mohinder knew his options were either swallow his pride and take a step back or maybe earn some respect and stay where he was? He thought about kicking Sylar in his pride but swiftly decided against it. He thought about Molly and Matt, and all the fun times their family could still have on this sofa, in this place. He stepped back, eyes down. Sylar seemed to approve, standing. This time Mohinder took a step back involuntarily, the last time Sylar had stood over him like this had been...painful. 

 

“Hand,” Sylar ordered.

 

Mohinder offered his shaking hand, feeling like a child again, about to have his wrists rapped with a ruler by his maths tutor. Sylar took it, seeming to concentrate, and then let go. Mohinder frowned. 

 

“What now?”

 

Sylar patted him on the shoulder and the tension dissolved. “Nothing. That’s all I needed to do. I should get going if I wanna catch the hotel before they close for the night.”

 

Mohinder stared at him. The dark, cloying atmosphere had evaporated. Now Sylar was chatting to him as if he hadn’t just scared the living daylights out of him and threatened his family. 

 

“Don’t come back.”

 

Sylar turned, cocking his head. “Hm? Excuse me?”

 

“Don’t come back. Please. I want my family to stay intact. I want to be able to stay here knowing that you aren’t coming back. Promise me.”

 

Sylar raised one overgrown brow. “Why would I make that promise? You’re a very useful toy, Doctor Suresh.”

 

Mohinder steeled himself. “I’ll go somewhere you can’t follow.”

 

“What is that supposed to mean?”

 

Mohinder smiled bitterly. “We have a contact. She can send us anywhere. Even another reality with no Sylar in it. We didn't want to have to do it because there's a risk involved but if it means you're out of my life I'm willing to accept that risk.”

 

He watched Sylar’s face darken like tea in hot water, expecting to be hit any second. 

 

“I promise.”

 

Mohinder thought he'd imagined it. “W - what?”

 

Sylar held out a hand, and Mohinder thought he saw his eyes trailing over his bare chest. 

 

“I promise. I will never set foot in your house. In this or any other you ever own.”

 

Hesitant, Mohinder shook his hand. “Why?”

 

Shrugging, Sylar slid around him and headed for the door. “People to kill. Abilities to take. You're not that important to me.”

 

Unwilling to believe his slimy words, Mohinder didn't let his guard down. Good job, because Sylar turned and sliced down his cheek with a wave of his finger. Mohinder screamed, holding his face and backing away. 

 

“Just one for the road. Something to remember me by,” Sylar chuckled, before letting himself out. 

 

Mohinder slammed against the door behind him, locking it and immediately heading for the shower. He needed to feel clean after that, and blood was starting to trickle down into the waistline of his pants. 


	4. Chapter 4

It was a strange feeling, a sadist’s high. Made Sylar feel like he was 100ft tall. Interesting, the idea of crushing Mohinder underfoot. Maybe he'd try that out sometime but not in the first dream. Oh no, he knew what he would do in the first dream. 

 

Sylar settled himself in the tree outside Mohinder’s flashy family home and started congratulating himself on exactly how clever he'd been. Doing a little beta test of the ability before he woke Mohinder, pretending his ability didn't work when he touched his arm. Promising never to  _ set foot inside _ their home again? He didn't like to call himself a genius, that felt vain, but really…there was no one around to appreciate it so he let himself. 

 

Mohinder was finally having that shower. Sylar listened and got more than a little lost in the sounds of skin sliding over wet skin, the distant smell of steam and soap. Mohinder’s shallow breathing, coupled with a heart rate showing he was still rattled. Sylar smiled to himself and began carving the tree branch, bored. He wondered why hurting and scaring people gave him such a feeling. Not usually sexual, but always irresistibly gratifying. He paused carving. Mohinder’s breathing changed. That beat… 

 

Nowhere near muted under the thrum of hot water, the unmistakable sound of arousal became all Sylar could focus on. Fear really was an aphrodisiac after all…

 

Sylar felt a shiver of his own arousal followed by disgust. He hadn't thought he felt that way about Mohinder. No, he had to keep it professional. Then again, Mohinder was making some pretty interesting breathy moans, and Sylar was struck with the intrusive thought that he wished he hadn't made that promise so he could go in and… 

 

No. No, that was…no. Sylar wasn't like that. Nevertheless, he found himself floating up to the window, glad Mohinder had cracked it to let the steam out. He eased it open a little more and twitched at the sight before him. Mohinder had left the curtain open, knowing he was home alone, in private. He leant with his back against the wall, the stream of water forgotten but still soaking his hair and dripping down his exposed body. And his hands…he was touching himself. Sylar wet his lips. Mohinder’s cock was hard under his touch, the other hand grasping his balls. Those moans were getting a little louder. His heart rate climbed, and Sylar recognised that as the approach to climax. Too soon. 

 

Before he could stop himself he reached out, and very carefully wrapped a thin circle of pressure around the base of Mohinder’s cock. He didn't notice, but his noises got a little more desperate as he realised he couldn't quite come. He stopped leaning and bent to pick something up. Sylar worried it was over, but before he could berate himself for these thoughts and this behaviour, Mohinder was pressing himself against the wall face first. A bright red dildo in his hand. Sylar wanted to leave, he knew this wasn't him. But as Mohinder spread his cheeks and he heard a small pop, he knew he couldn't leave. Mohinder’s gasp and the subsequent groaning were the best noises yet, and Sylar found himself craving more. Again, being careful as he possibly could be, he helped Mohinder along, forcing the dildo deeper and deeper, until Mohinder was barely holding on, pleasure carrying him. 

 

He looked down in horror; he had a massive hard-on. Feeling a little sickened at himself, Sylar released Mohinder, reclosed the window and backed away. He stalked down the street, trying to block it out, but Mohinder’s moans were as loud as if he were right there in the room. He saw a motel, one of those kinds of motels. He ducked in quickly. 

 

“One, please. ASAP.”

 

The reception was disgusted by his obvious hurry and arousal but gave him a key. 

 

“She'll be right up.”

 

He undressed in the room, already nude by the time a knock came at the door. A woman in a maid outfit stood, pouting. 

 

“Hello, sir, I just came to -”

 

He pulled her in. “None of that. Strip for me.”

 

She grinned, throwing her clothes aside. “Yes, Sir. I love when we get right down to it.”

 

Sylar threw her on the bed, resisting a strong urge to cover his ears. He dragged her closer, entering her slowly, but once inside he realised she didn't need gentle nor was he in the mood to give it. He started pounding, finding himself moving in rhythm with Mohinder and his dildos obscene noises. 

 

“Fuck,” he growled, and flipped the woman over. “Be quiet. Make no sounds.”

 

Her ridiculous screeching stopped, and he felt a brief pity for her. Having to put on such a show. He was quickly distracted again by Mohinder, who was now… Speaking. Whispering, quietly, under his breath. Sylar strained to hear it. 

 

“Please, please, please, oh, God, yes, please…”

 

Like a mantra. Sylar closed his eyes, losing control.

 

“Fuck, please, harder,” Mohinder repeated, desperate. 

 

Sylar felt close, the confusion at his feelings growing in the back of his mind as the experience was almost over. The woman beneath him laid silently, probably glad of a customer who just wanted a simple fuck. He focused back in on Mohinder, who was even closer than he was. Fucking himself faster than ever, wet skin squeaking against the tiled as he struggled to keep himself upright. 

 

“Please, please, please, God, I'm gonna - I'm gonna come, please…”

 

Sylar briefly imagined what it would be like to be Mohinder’s god. To be begged and worshipped. He finished, the woman beneath him letting out a hushed moan as he filled her. Listening to Mohinder also climaxing kept his orgasm going and multiplying one after the other. He kept thrusting, slower and gentler now, breathing heavily. Mohinder did the same, whimpering as he slid the dildo out of his ass.

 

“Mm, please, please…Matt.”

 

\---

 

Mohinder let the shower wash away his come, sliding down to slump in the bathtub. It was hard when Matt was away. He was the more sexually voracious of the two of them, and Mohinder had had to adjust to his libido. Sometimes every day, more than once a day. Now he'd have to take care of himself. Matt probably wouldn't mind if he called Peter to come and help him out but after sending him away to Disneyland for the weekend he'd probably get jealous. Matt was fine with their polyamory, but it wasn't a good idea to test it. So toys it was. His encounter with Sylar, while terrifying, had got him excited. 

 

To be clear, Mohinder was not attracted to Sylar. At least, not anymore. When Sylar was Zane, when he was nice. Maybe. A different story. That was before he found out he was a murderer, his father's murderer no less. Before he'd met Matt, made a family, moved on. He wanted to knock on Zane’s hotel door that night and try to seduce him. He'd been a coward. Luckily that had worked out well. He couldn't imagine the emotional baggage of sleeping with the man who killed his father. But God damn. Every time he saw Sylar again he remembered how sweet he could be, sickeningly so. And the man was handsome. Being a killer didn't change that. Mohinder cursed his attraction.

 

No sooner than he'd stepped in the warm shower, his hands wandered and he imagined Matt in there with him, like he had been just a day prior. Matt was a bear, with some serious momentum behind him and it had taken Mohinder a while to adjust to that juggernaut. So the dildo had become a smooth ride, it almost felt like he wasn't even holding it. He was surprised he'd even needed it; Mohinder was a fast finisher and Matt usually needed a cock ring to keep him going til they were both done. 

 

He wondered if he should call and join Matt and Molly tomorrow or really take the weekend to get some work done. Exhausted, he dragged himself back to bed, hair soaking straight through the pillow. If Matt was here, he'd Tell Mohinder to quieten down. His brooding sometimes overwhelmed Matt. He was glad he wasn't here to hear the brief thoughts he'd had of Sylar. It was a sore spot, but Mohinder couldn't exactly lie to a mind reader. He obviously didn't want to be attracted to a murderer, but Matt was comforted by the knowledge that any emotional connection was gone, Mohinder was purely attracted to Sylar’s physicality. He didn't exactly blame him, and Mohinder was grateful for that, but he also didn't like bringing it up. It would be hard to hide this from him when he got back. He reminded himself that if he needed to, he could have the Haitian remove certain things. Not just the shower, that dream...It was terrifying. Sylar...in his bed, choking him, killing him.  

 

Maybe the Haitian should remove everything of Sylar altogether.  

**Author's Note:**

> Looks like this is gonna be a long one, so if you have any suggestions for what Sylar's gonna do to Mohinder in these dreams, hit me with them. It's gonna get dark :)
> 
> got questions, suggestions, requests?
> 
> jupiterfeels@gmail.com


End file.
